Khalif knows of what he speaks. He arrived in the U.S. as a teenage refugee from Somalia, grew up in Faribault, faced the challenged and embraced the joys of living here.
His January talk proved educational as Khalif shared personal stories, photos and information about the Somali culture. Both helped the sixty of us in attendance to better understand our Somali neighbors and ways we can connect to each other.
Certainly the word “bridges,” titling his talk, fits. Bridges connect. Khalif’s talk focuses on “building bridges in a diverse environment,” according to a media release from the RCHS. The release further states that Khalif “will share information and insights that help us foster mutual respect and understanding.”
I’m all for that and hope Thursday evening’s event is as well attended as his first at the library. I feel like way too many locals remain unwelcoming of the thousands of Somalis who call Faribault home. I’d like to see attitudes change. That starts with listening, learning, connecting on a personal level, bridging that which divides, recognizing that we are all just people.
FYI: To pre-register for “Building Bridges: Intro to Somali Culture” on April 16, call the RCHS at 507-332-2121. Admission is free for RCHS members and $5 for non-members.
Budding branches on the maple tree in my backyard during a recent sunset of pink sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
HERE IN SOUTHERN MINNESOTA, the greening of the land indicates the beginning of spring’s full-on arrival.
April showers, more like recent deluges of rain, and warmer temperatures have reawakened the earth. Once dormant brown grass now colors lawns greens.
Buds begin to open on lilac bushes at North Alexander Park, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Buds tip tree branches and bushes, promising canopies of leaves and masses of flowers. I’m waiting for the lilacs to bloom in early May, their heady scent a gift to all of us upon winter’s departure.
A crocus blooms at the Rice County Master Gardeners’ Teaching Garden on the Rice County Fairgrounds, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Crocuses, daffodils and other spring flowers burst through the soil, opening to the sun in a visual splash of color. A jubilant and celebratory scene that shouts happiness.
A Canadian goose swims in the Cannon River at North Alexander Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Down by the river, geese and ducks share company, prepare for nesting and the arrival of little ones. I wait each spring for the goslings and ducklings. They fill my spirit with the promise of new beginnings. Hope in a world desperately in need of hope.
In the Cannon River, a Canadian goose spreads its wings. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Along water’s edge, I simply stand and observe. Waves rippling, wings rising, water flowing under a gray April sky.
Branches on a riverside tree twist and turn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
The day feels unsettled in its unseasonable warmth and humidity as I follow a paved path in Faribault’s North Alexander Park. Past the Cannon River, through the trees, then back to the river, I walk with my husband.
Tagged and planted at North Alexander Park, the True North Kentucky Coffeetree. A flag in the park reads “Tree City USA.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
We pause to look at several newly-planted trees, including a True North Kentucky Coffeetree, developed, I later learn, through the University of Minnesota woody landscape breeding program. We both wondered about the viability of a coffee tree growing in this northern climate.
Measured and compared to a quarter, some of the larger hail that fell at our home on Monday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Hours later, the rain comes. And then the hail. First small, then some larger hailstones, pelt the lawn, the patio, the driveway, the street, the old rusty van. The house. Stones hit the aluminum awning over the back door with an unnerving shot-like bang. Randy and I stand and watch, moving from window to window, hoping the hail doesn’t damage our roof.
Afterwards I head outside to gather a few hailstones in baggies for freezing and measuring. We have yet to inspect for damage. The day after, out-of-town roofing companies are descending on Faribault like birds returning in the spring. There is no birdsong, though, only a circling around.
These Canadian geese stand guard on the bank of the Cannon River in North Alexander Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
With spring comes the greening of grass, the blooming of flowers, the budding of trees, the gathering of waterfowl and the occasional severe storm that moves across the land. Unwelcome, but not unexpected in this season of change.
A section of Main Street in Kasson where I discovered a variety store of sorts in the second building from the corner. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
ONCE UPON A TIME, long before shopping online became a thing, long before malls and long before the prevalence of big box stores, small town Main Street centered retail commerce.
A Ben Franklin store in downtown Park Rapids, which I popped into and photographed in 2017. The store has since closed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2017)
Mom and pop shops prevailed, mostly meeting a community’s basics needs. But even back in the day, a few chain stores existed. I’m talking five-and-dime variety stores like Ben Franklin and Woolworths.
The Woolworths store along Central Avenue in downtown Faribault, photographed during its grand opening on June 11, 1969, and closed years ago. (Photo courtesy of the Rice County Historical Society)
As a Baby Boomer, I hold fond youthful memories of these two stores. Of buying 45 rpm vinyl singles, nail polish, embroidery patterns, fabric… But even into adulthood I shopped at both, including at Woolworths along Central Avenue in downtown Faribault. Here I bought goldfish (for my kids) scooped from tanks in the back of the store. Here our family bought basics and other goods.
That variety store closed long ago, along with many other businesses that once claimed space in my community. Today Faribault’s downtown looks much different than when I moved here 44 years ago. That’s to be expected. Businesses close. New businesses open. A few endure for generations. As a place and times change, so do its businesses.
I didn’t notice the sign on the building, but rather a small hometown sausage sign on the window to the left of the door at KLG. That drew me inside. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
But occasionally I discover a place that takes me back to yesteryear in a flashback of memories. That happened recently in the small town of Kasson, just west of Rochester along U.S. Highway 14. While walking through the downtown, I found KLG Store. The name itself told me nothing about the business. But a printed sign in the front window advertising “Kasson Hometown Sausage Sold Here!” drew me inside. Not that I like sausage. I don’t. But I appreciate quirky no-frills signs.
Clerk and customer confer about fabric next to cubbies of yarn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Piles of fabric cover tables. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Bolts of fabric are stashed under the tables. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Yet, once inside KLG, I was immediately drawn to cubbies of yarn, then tables and shelves packed with bolts of fabric. I forgot all about the sausage. Instead, I ran my hands across cloth, eyed the colorful prints, remembered my teen years when I stitched nearly all of my clothing.
Rows of spooled thread to match with fabric. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
So many colorful patterns. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Lots of choices for quilters, crafters, seamstresses… (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
I haven’t touched my sewing machine in years. For a moment I thought perhaps I should pull it out of storage and resume a creative activity I once loved. Spools of colorful Coats & Clark thread had me visually pairing thread with fabric. Psychedelic prints had me visually pinning and cutting patterns for a seventies fashion statement. Oh, the memories.
The vintage fold-away baskets, right, prompted me to ask if this had once been a dime store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Then a stash of vintage collapsible fold-away baskets distracted me, temporarily pausing my fawning over fabric, yarn and embroidery patterns. The red, green and gold fabric and metal baskets with wooden handles are signature five-and-dime store staples.
These embroidery transfer patterns brought back lots of memories. I used such patterns to embroider clothes and more in the 1970s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Turns out KLG once housed a Ben Frankin store. I felt giddy upon learning that, but also a tad melancholy. The fold-away baskets reminded me of the passage of time, of how quickly the decades fly.
This sausage originated in Kasson, but is now made in Waseca. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
This building in some ways still houses a variety store with fabric, yarn and notions; products produced via laser engraving, digital and screen printing; and Kasson Hometown sausage, brats and other meats filling coolers. The hometown sausage, though, is no longer made in Kasson, but rather at Morgan’s Meat Market in Waseca.
Looking from the back of the fabric and notions section to the yarn at the front of the store. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Times change. Businesses change. But sometimes remnants of the past remain, like those fold away shopping baskets inside KLG. Durable baskets that took me back in time to Ben Franklin and Woolworths along yesterday’s Main Street.
Shelved fabric bolts are sorted by color and seasonal design. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
TELL ME: If you have any special memories of dime stores, I’d like to hear them.
Randy and I stand in front of the larger of two Ridgeview Heights apartments under construction in Faribault. The east apartment building is in the background. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo by Anika Rychner, April 2026)
SCENT OF NEW WOOD, of a new build, holds the promise of new beginnings.
And that’s exactly what’s possible with the construction of two mixed use housing units under construction a block off Central Avenue in downtown Faribault.
Inside the first floor of a two-level apartment in the larger west side building, much work remains to be done. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Wednesday afternoon Randy and I toured the complexes, which will offer two emergency rent-free furnished apartments and six market rate workforce apartments to local families in need of shelter. This aims to be temporary as families transition to more stable and permanent housing.
The Faribault Community Action Center is the lead on the $2.5 million Ridgeview Heights project funded by grants, an in-kind land donation from the City of Faribault, financing and donations. I’m proud to say that the extended Helbling family collected and gifted monies to the project at our annual reunion last summer. For that reason, especially, I wanted to walk through the apartments, grab a few quick photos with my smartphone and text them to my in-laws.
A view of the Ridgeview Heights apartments under a wide April sky. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
As I walked across the dirt, followed makeshift board sidewalks and climbed temporary wooden stairs into several units, I considered the hope each apartment represents. I thought, too, of the excitement these families will feel upon stepping into their new homes.
I remember the thrill of moving into a new house as a child. My parents, with the help of extended family and a local carpenter, built a new house to replace the aging farmhouse that our family of eight outgrew. Not only did we gain much-needed space, but we also got a bathroom. No more trips to the outhouse.
That memory flashed through my mind while touring Ridgeview Heights during the invitation-only event. The scent of new construction, exposed framing, unfinished floors, a space awaiting a family, felt comfortably familiar.
Inside an apartment in the east building, which is nearing completion. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
I visualized bunk beds stacked in a small bedroom. I visualized a small kitchen table snugged against a wall. I visualized family photos displayed on the extra thick window sills crafted into this net-zero energy build with multi-layered walls.
I heard children laughing, the murmur of a television, the quiet voice of a mother soothing a child. I saw towels hanging in the bathroom, shoes nested in the closet, dishes sitting on the kitchen counter. I smelled coffee brewing, dinner cooking.
Construction is further along on the smaller east apartment complex where Randy and I posed for a photo. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo by Anika Rychner, April 2026)
It was easy to imagine all of this as I followed CAC Community Resource Manager Becky Ford, then CAC Interim Executive Director Anika Rychner, on tours of several apartments. Carefully climbing unfinished wooden stairs to the second floor of one apartment, I thought of the feet that will eventually ascend and descend these stairs. And when we paused to look out a wide window to a view of the city, I stood in awe of the inspiring scene, of the viaduct bridging the river to the other side of town.
The name Ridgeview Heights fits. Those who will call this hilltop place their home can rise to new heights here on the ridge. Ridgeview Heights inspires hope, possibilities and new beginnings.
Crocuses bloom in my flowerbed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
EACH SPRING THEY EMERGE, poking through a layer of dried leaves mulching my front flowerbed.
When I spot the tender green shoots of crocuses, I feel a surge of optimism that winter is winding down. However, as a life-long Minnesotan, I also tamp my excitement. Snow falls in April here and sometimes in May. And these crocuses were bursting already in late March.
Days after I removed the leaves, exposing the crocuses to sunshine and air, they grew quickly. Soon purple blossoms spread wide, revealing golden centers like spots of sunshine.
I delight in the shades of purple, notice the lines tracing the petals, the way the flowers hug the ground as if also tentative about the season.
This first flower of spring seems to me courageous. Braving the cold of Minnesota, determined to reach the sunshine, to make a strong statement of hope that the cold and dark of winter will give way to warmth and light.
TELL ME: I’d like to hear your first flower of spring story.
This 8 x 12-foot mural graces the exterior of the Lakeville Area Arts Center Performing Arts Building. The art was designed by Shane and Kelly Anderson and painted by the community during the 2017 Lakeville Art Festival. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
WHEN A CHURCH CLOSES or relocates into a new space, what happens to the former house of worship? That depends on the community, the market, the condition of the building and more.
The Lakeville Area Arts Center in downtown Lakeville is housed in a former Catholic church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
In Vesta, the old St. John’s Lutheran Church was repurposed into apartments when my home congregation constructed a new sanctuary on the southeast edge of town in the early 1970s. In Faribault, where I have lived since 1984, a boutique, craft and gift shop, Nook & Cranny, fills the old St. Lawrence Catholic Church. In nearby Dundas, craft beer is served inside a former historic chapel at a brewery aptly named Chapel Brewing. A former Methodist church in neighboring Waseca houses the Waseca County History Center. Up in Fargo, North Dakota, St. Mark’s Lutheran Church is now home to the Sanctuary Events Center, where I attended my friend Hannah’s wedding and reception.
Shane Anderson created this acrylic painting in 2011 commemorating the 10th anniversary of the Lakeville Area Arts Center. It hangs in a lower level of the center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Then there’s the old All Saints Catholic Church in Lakeville a half hour to the north along Interstate 35. In 2001, the vacated massive 1932 brick building became the Lakeville Area Arts Center Performing Arts Building. If an aged church is no longer a church, then I can think of no better reuse than as a center for creativity, a sanctuary for creatives.
This magnificent lion sculpture flanks the front entry to the Lakeville arts center, formerly a church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Often these old churches have been built by skilled craftsmen who’ve incorporated art into the construction. Stained glass windows. Sculptures. Ornate wood carvings. Repurposing a church as an art center seems reverently fitting.
The sanctuary is now a theater. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Recently I visited the Lakeville arts center inside that old Catholic church. The worship space has been transformed into a theater, complete with 300 tiered seats rising high in the long, narrow building. Stained glass windows remain, a visual reminder that parishioners once gathered here.
Looking up at mammoth stained glass window artabove the entry to the former church. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Today concerts and live theater take place here. And in other parts of the building are art galleries, rehearsal and meeting rooms and more. I think the saints would celebrate this usage of their sacred space in the absence of a place of worship.
A sampling of art created by students in the Lakeville Public School and recently exhibited in the arts center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
As I meandered through the arts center, viewing student art featured in gallery exhibits, other art and those stained glass windows, I felt the spirit of creativity.
Outside the arts center is a six foot tall fiberglass sculpture, “Bruce the Moose.” Shane Anderson designed the sculpture and the community painted it during the 2016 Lakeville Art Festival. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Outside, sculptures like “Bruce the Moose” and a “Creative Endeavors” mural visually mark this as an arts center. The artwork is part of Lakeville’s public art scattered on the grounds and about town.
On the exterior of the Fine Arts Building hangs an art piece featuring fused glass. Milligan Studio created “Hive,” which represents collaboration and innovation.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Next to the performing arts building, creatives also gather in the former Alternative Learning Center, now home to the 11,000 square foot Fine Arts Building. Inside are ceramics studios, classrooms for glass, fiber arts and painting, rehearsal space, student galleries, an art shop, and more.
A painting of the church/arts center on the base of a round table in the lower level of the performing arts building. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
I love the arts. And when I discover a place like the Lakeville Area Arts Center, I feel connected as a creative myself. The arts ought always to be celebrated. They entertain us, move us, speak for us, allow us to express ourselves, bring us together in community and, oh, so much more.
Tucked into a window inside a glass case, glass art created by Nolan Prohaska for the 2010 Lakeville Art Festival. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
Personally, I cannot image my life without writing and photography, my creative outlets, my life’s work. Or, more correctly, my life’s passion because neither ever feels like work.
TELL ME: What are your thoughts on the arts and/or on repurposing of a vacated church into an arts center or something else?
Colorful, eye-catching art decorates a collection box for donations to the Faribault Community Action Center. This box is located just inside the entry to the Shattuck-St. Mary’s School athletic complex. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
While I’ve not read Clinton’s book, I understand the importance of a village, of community, in the lives of children. Kids learn, not only from their parents, teachers and each other, but also from being out and about in their communities.
They learn, and teach us adults, about care and compassion, about service and giving back, of lifting up community. In these days of innumerable challenges in America, such lessons are truly more important than ever.
Some of the items collected at St. John’s Lutheran Church, Lakeville, during a special food shelf drive earlier this year. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
I need only look within my own core family to see this. In mid-February, my two elementary-aged grandchildren helped their mom, my eldest, transport items from their Lakeville church to a food shelf in nearby Farmington. The kids sorted donated items. And my first grade grandson wrote about the experience for a school assignment complete with illustrations. “I helped at church (beacus (sic) of ICE),” Isaac wrote.
He knew. His mom has been working tirelessly soliciting cash donations, buying and delivering groceries to a south metro food shelf, and sorting and bagging donations during and after Operation Metro Surge. Not only has she assisted those sheltering in their homes, but she has also taught her children an important lesson in helping others.
Kids are never too young to learn about generosity, about loving their neighbors. About giving of themselves in service to community.
This shows the entry to the Shattuck-St. Mary’s athletic complex, a gym on the left, the soccer dome (where I sometimes walk) to the right and the ice arenas straight ahead. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
That brings me to Shattuck-St. Mary’s, a private college prep school in Faribault. While heading to walk at the Shattuck dome on a recent morning, I noticed several cardboard collection boxes in the public gathering space/hallway of the athletic complex. I stopped to investigate.
Promotional photos of Shattuck are posted on a wall behind a collection box set outside an ice arena and the hallway leading to the soccer dome. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
While the boxes were empty, I read about their purpose. Students, calling themselves “Sabre Storm,” “The Breakfast Club” and “Team Cheese,” are collecting non-perishable food and household and personal care items for the Faribault Community Action Center.
Signage details the project. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
Most needed are: dry beans, canned soups, ramen noodles, canned chicken/tuna, size 7 diapers and pull-ups. I expect those attending hockey and soccer games, and other activities inside the sports complex will drop donations into the collection boxes.
A dozen Shattuck students signed their names on a collection box outside an ice arena. Sabre is the school name and symbol. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
I love that students like Jorge, Lara, Max, Miranda, Yujin, Rhys, Gael and 38 others, who signed the boxes, are connecting with the Faribault community via this drive. There’s not only a “heightened need” for food, household and personal care items at the Community Action Center, but also for cash donations.
Loving this “Sabre Storm” collection box art showing diverse hands reaching out and encircling a state of Minnesota map. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
I read that on the CAC website. But I’ve also heard this from a friend who volunteers at the CAC. The increased need all circles back to my grandson’s words, “beacus (sic) of ICE.” Many people in Faribault were sheltering in place, unable to work, during the height of federal immigration enforcement. And just because that operation has scaled back, the crisis has not ended.
A group of students calling themselves “The Breakfast Club” have signed on to collect donations for the Community Action Center in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
The CAC has established a Community Response Fund “to meet urgent and evolving community needs” for food, rental assistance, etc. Every donation helps, my friend says. Even $10.
Growing generosity and kindness at Shattuck-St. Mary’s School via collecting donations. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
It takes a village. It takes a village to raise children. And it takes a village to help our neighbors through a crisis, a crisis created by the federal government. A crisis that has left too many Minnesota families facing overwhelming financial challenges, trauma, personal struggles and an uncertain future.
Fifteen Shattuck students signed this donation box as “Team Cheese.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2026)
FYI: Please consider making a financial gift to the Faribault Community Action Center Community Response Fund. Click here to learn more. To those of you who have already donated, thank you. I appreciate your generosity during these challenging times in my community. It takes a village.
A sign held during a February protest in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo February 2026)
STANDING ON THE PROTEST LINE in Faribault nearly every Saturday morning for three months, I’ve felt uplifted and loved by other protesters. And I’ve felt tremendous support, too, from the majority of passing motorists who wave, give us the thumbs up and honk their horns.
But I’ve also witnessed outrage, raging anger, dangerous behavior and hostility directed at those of us who are peacefully protesting against the current regime, etc., in this country. Everyone, under the First Amendment, is entitled to their opinion. It’s OK to disagree with us. But, the level of animosity I see and hear is truly disheartening.
BULLYING BEHAVIOR
We, as protesters, expect some negativity to be directed at us. But when it becomes dangerous, such as guys in mammoth pick-up trucks driving dangerously close at a high rate of speed and rolling coal, that crosses the line. We all understand that they are trying to intimidate us, to silence our voices. It’s a tactic that comes down from the top. Bullying is as old as time itself. We won’t be bullied into silence.
DISTURBING BEHAVIOR
That brings me to one particular driver whose behavior on Saturday had two of my new protest friends and me asking, “Did you see that?” That was a dad who had rolled down his window to give us the middle finger and shout profanities at us, with his young child strapped in a car seat behind him. This proved the most disturbing behavior I’ve witnessed while protesting. Children mimic what they see and hear. And this dad was teaching his child hatred and disrespect toward others.
UNSUITABLE WORDS
That brings me to the president’s profanity-laced social media post on Easter Sunday. I won’t type his warning to Iran about the Strait of Hormuz because his message is not suited for a general audience. But suffice to say that his language is unsuitable for the office he holds. I often wonder how anyone can be OK with what he writes, says and does.
From my private collection, a peace dove painting on burlap by Jose Maria de Servin This shows only a portion of the artwork, which I purchased at a recycled art sale many years ago. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
WORDS OF PEACE
Then there’s Pope Leo XIV, who delivered a message of peace on Easter, as one would expect of a world faith leader. “Let those who have the power to unleash wars choose peace,” the pontiff said. Amen to that. I am thankful for leaders like him who stand publicly strong for what is right and good and moral. Now if only Pope Leo could have a one-on-one with the president or that dad driving past our protest line, flipping the bird and shouting profanities at us as his child watched and listened.
An Easter-themed message on a church bulletin board. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
HAPPY EASTER, dear friends!
As a Christian, I celebrate the resurrection of Jesus today. Now, I could share one of the many photos I’ve taken of stained glass windows and other art to illustrate that event. But instead, I’ve chosen a photograph of a bulletin board display.
I spotted this display after attending “The Last Supper Drama” at St. John’s United Church of Christ, Wheeling Township, rural Faribault, on Palm Sunday. There it was, on a wall of the fellowship hall where we gathered for bars (a Minnesota word for sweet treats like brownies), refreshments and conversation.
The message is simple, to the point and relatable with a secular Easter twist. That twist being the sugary marshmallow Peeps loved by some and disliked by others (that would be me; I prefer chocolate).
But I definitely appreciate this clever message done in the mostly pastel hues of Easter. JESUS IS RISEN. TELL YOUR PEEPS.
This would make a great children’s object lesson during an Easter morning worship service. Print the message. Attach to a small box of Peeps and give it to the kiddos with the cautionary warning, “Wait until you get home to eat your Peeps.”
Have a joyful Easter with your peeps, everyone! He is risen! Alleluia!
The rising moon, photographed in the parking lot at St. John’s United Church of Christ, Wheeling Township, rural Faribault, on Palm Sunday. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo March 2026)
HEY, DIDDLE, DIDDLE, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon.
Goodnight room. Goodnight moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon.
Blue moon. Harvest moon. Full moon.
Moon, moon, moon. Whether in a nursery rhyme, a children’s picture book or in a weather report, the moon has always focused our attention.
MOON MEMORIES
As a child, I found myself drawn to the full moon of harvest season. On an October evening, when extended family gathered in a small farmhouse to celebrate my bachelor Uncle Mike’s birthday, the moon shone upon the farmyard and surrounding fields. In the shadows, my cousins and I played “Starlight, Moonlight,” a nocturnal hide-and-seek, until we were called back to the farmhouse for soda pop. There we gathered around a wooden crate of bottled pop while moths beat their wings against the screen door in a desperate attempt to reach a porch light.
Light. In the deep cold of a winter evening, moonlight guided me from barn to house on my childhood farm. My boots crunched against the packed snow, my breath haloing around me, my fingertips numb from doing chores. High above, the moon hovered.
MOON WALK
On July 20, 1969, the moon morphed well beyond a literary subject or a guiding light for me. I watched Neil Armstrong step onto and walk on the moon from the comfort of Martin and Hattie Schmidt’s living room in Posen Township on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. My family was visiting them for the evening as was customary back in those days.
MOON GO-AROUND
All these moon memories rushed back on Wednesday, April 1, when Artemis II launched into space for a go-around, not a landing, on the moon. This time I sat in the comfort of my living room, watching lift-off on my flat screen color television, not a black-and-white bulky TV.
While I didn’t experience the same thrill I felt as a child witnessing the moon walk, the blasting of a rocket into space still impressed me. Such power. Such an unimaginable concept that four astronauts (including a woman) could travel into deep space, thousands and thousands and thousands of miles to the far side of the moon.
And then home. To the moon of nursery rhymes, children’s picture books, seasons and memories.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Courageous crocuses April 9, 2026
Tags: blossoms, cold, commentary, crocus, crocuses, flowers, Minnesota, nature, seasons, spring, spring flowers, winter
EACH SPRING THEY EMERGE, poking through a layer of dried leaves mulching my front flowerbed.
When I spot the tender green shoots of crocuses, I feel a surge of optimism that winter is winding down. However, as a life-long Minnesotan, I also tamp my excitement. Snow falls in April here and sometimes in May. And these crocuses were bursting already in late March.
Days after I removed the leaves, exposing the crocuses to sunshine and air, they grew quickly. Soon purple blossoms spread wide, revealing golden centers like spots of sunshine.
I delight in the shades of purple, notice the lines tracing the petals, the way the flowers hug the ground as if also tentative about the season.
This first flower of spring seems to me courageous. Braving the cold of Minnesota, determined to reach the sunshine, to make a strong statement of hope that the cold and dark of winter will give way to warmth and light.
TELL ME: I’d like to hear your first flower of spring story.
© Copyright 2026 Audrey Kletscher Helbling